Merry Christmas, Baby
by TheREALCarbyLove
Summary: Carter, Abby and a baby. At Christmas. Fluffy and fuzzy and full of Christmas cheer. Or something like that, anyway.


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Title: Merry Christmas, Baby

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG … just a few bad words and some slight innuendo

Summary: Carter. Abby. A baby. At Christmas. 

Disclaimer: They're still not mine. Neither are the Chipmunks or Mariah Carey. So we'll just call it more free publicity. 

Author's Note: MERRY CHRISTMAS! I hope you all enjoy this little story of Christmas fuzz. It's nice and long. I might have another Christmas stand alone to post soon … but it may have to be a slightly belated Christmas gift. But hey, that's just something to look forward to after the merriment of Christmas is over, right? A big thanks to LISA and COURTNEY for doing the read-through and then, possibly, lying through your teeth. LISA, thanks for telling me how much you like the whole damn thing. And COURTNEY, thanks for being honest. I'm glad you like it, anyway … in spite of certain characterization issues. Ah, well … that happens sometimes. For anyone who is still reading this author's note … don't forget how much I love reviews … and remember … it IS Christmas, dammit! I wrote you 25 pages … so c'mon now … you know you want to. 

*~*~*

Merry Christmas, Baby

"You guys are going to Ike's right?" Sam asks, coming up to the admit desk where Abby's attempting to get some work done, and I'm attempting to bug the crap out of her. 

"Cut it out, John," Abby says irritably, swatting my hand away from her stomach. Apparently being tickled doesn't help her get her charts done. Huh. 

"Sorry," I mumble as she gives me a look. Then she puts on her polite face and turns to Sam. 

"I don't think so," Abby tells her, shaking her head regretfully. 

"Oh, _c'mon_," Susan says, wandering up to the desk. "We never see you guys anymore." 

"You saw us all day at work," Abby points out. 

"You know what I mean," Susan says. "You should come, it'll be fun." 

"No," Abby shakes her head more decisively this time. "We've been away from the baby all day. I don't want to leave him with the sitter all night, too. Assuming she could even stay." 

"So bring him," Sam suggests. "I'm bringing Alex. He would kill me if I went to a Christmas party without him. In fact, he ought to be here now. I told him to wait in the lounge, but God only knows where he is. I better see if I can track him down," she says as she heads down the hall. 

Abby looks over at me, probably hoping that I'll back her up. I just shrug, "Actually, I wouldn't mind going. A chance to see our friends outside of work … it's Christmas, we should be celebrating. And you heard Sam, there'll be other kids there. Why shouldn't we bring Robby?" 

"It's cold," Abby says, as if that explains everything. 

"This is Chicago, Ab … it's always cold. Besides, isn't that why we bought him that cute little snowsuit? So that when we have to take him out when it's cold, we can keep him warm?" 

"Yes, but we don't _have_ to take him out."

"It's not gonna hurt him. I think he'd probably enjoy it. And I think we would, too. I don't want to be away from him any more than you do, but does that mean we all have to sit in the house until he's 18?"

"No, but …"

"C'mon … it's not that cold. He'll be fine. Besides, the party is taking place indoors." 

"Yeah, but …"

"What?"

"I'm tired."

I know I shouldn't laugh, but I can't help it. It is her standard reply these days. I look at her and say, "You're pregnant; you're always tired." 

"Well excuse me for being pregnant," she says, clearly annoyed with me. "And don't forget who's fault that is -- yours. Jackass." She's taken to mumbling unkind things about me under her breath. Not, I presume, for having gotten her pregnant since she's pretty happy about that turn of events … and she should be happy about it, she asked me to do it. So I suspect her irritation at me is for not immediately agreeing that we should go home to the baby and wrap ourselves up in our usual cocoon. I love it, too … but it doesn't mean that I never want to be out among other adults.

"Abby? Please? You know you'll have fun once you get there. You'll forget all about being tired. And you're off for … what? The next three days? You can catch up on your sleep then."

"With a baby in the house? You're delusional." 

"Well, I'll be home the next couple days, too so I'll take care of Robby, and you can sleep."

"Uh-huh." She sounds skeptical that I'll follow through with that promise. Or maybe she doesn't trust me to take care of my own son. 

"Abby … it's almost Christmas. I know it's a time for families, but it's also a time to be with our friends. And when was the last time we went … anywhere?" 

"We go … places." 

"The grocery store and the park don't count." 

"Funny. Look, okay … maybe we need to get out more. But not tonight, okay? Not on a day that we've both worked a long shift and he's been with the sitter for twelve hours. And you want me to just leave him for a few more? I can't do that." 

"I'm not asking you to do that. I don't want to do that either. That's why we'll bring him along." 

"We're gonna go all the way home and get him and then come all the way back? The party will be over by then." 

"No, I'll go home now and get him. Susan'll cover for me, right Susan?" 

"Yeah, uh-huh," she says from behind me, probably with absolutely no idea of what I just said. 

"You stay here … finish your charts. I'll go home and get the baby and meet you all over at Ike's. We don't have to stay long." 

"I don't know." She looks at me for a long minute. I assume she's trying to make up her mind.

"C'mon, Abby," Susan says, turning back to us and taking her turn trying to sway Abby. "Don't make me go without you guys. It won't be any fun. I'll end up spending the whole night listening to Haleh bitch about how much she hates Christmas shopping. Or watching Frank attempt to eat his weight in fried cheese. And believe me, that's not the kind of fun I'm looking for. Besides, I haven't seen Robby in, like, a week. He's probably changed so much I wouldn't even recognize him. And think of how much fun he'll have with everyone passing him around, acting all goofy because there's a baby in the room." 

"Okay, okay," Abby finally relents. "Fine. We'll go." She turns to me. "You go home and get Robby. You better give him a bath and get him in his pajamas. One of the fuzzy sleepers to keep him warm. Don't forget to put a onesie on underneath. And I don't know how long we'll be there, so you better bring some jars of food … maybe some cereal … and a couple of bottles … but don't make them up ahead of time, just … you know what? I better make you a list." 

"A list?"

"Yeah, a list. Of everything to put in the diaper bag."

"Abby, I don't need a list. He's my baby, too, you know." 

She just regards me carefully for a minute. "Hand me that pad of paper, would you?" Figuring it's easier than arguing with her, I just hand her the paper and watch her make her list. It only seems to have 37 entries, the first of which says "Robby" … as if I would forget to bring the baby. 

"Okay, so the new sleepers -- the nice ones -- are in the top drawer. And … John? Are you listening to me?" 

"Of course I'm listening. The sleepers are in the top drawer. But I already knew that. And you don't have to tell me every last thing to bring. I'm his father, I think I know what he needs." 

She just looks at me yet again and then goes on as if I hadn't said anything. "And he's got that diaper rash, so when you put on his diaper, lots of rash cream, okay? And the snowsuit should be in the front hall closet. The hat and mittens are in the sleeves. Oh, and I think that thing for the carseat is in there, too. But don't forget to bring a blanket … I'll write it down … wait, I already put the blanket on the list." 

"What thing for the carseat?"

"You know, that cover … it goes over the top of it and makes like a little tent to put him in. It'll keep the wind and snow off of him. Keep him nice and warm." 

"You really think that's necessary? He's going to be outside a sum total of 30 seconds when I walk him from the car to the restaurant. He's not embarking on a mission to the north pole." 

She narrows her eyes at me for a moment … and then shakes her head in disbelief. "Yes, but it will be cold in the car." 

Why do I even bother? She always manages to be right when it comes to our son. I don't know why I even try to argue with her. Of course it will be cold in the car. He could probably stand it, but Abby couldn't bear the thought of him getting cold on the drive home. 

"Okay, I'll get the cover thing for the carseat." 

"Thank you. Are you sure you've got all this?" 

"Yes, Abby … I think I can handle picking up the baby and all his stuff."

"Don't forget the list." 

"Don't worry … I'll check it twice." 

"Gonna find out who's naughty and nice?" Susan asks.

"What?" Abby and I ask at the same time. 

"Oh my God, you two are so pathetic." 

I'm not gonna ask for details on that. I just give Abby a quick kiss, taking the list that she hands me with an indulgent, yet patronizing smile, and get out while I still can. 

A short time later I'm home, greeting our sitter who informs me that Robby went down for his nap late this afternoon and is still sleeping. It gives me a chance to get the rundown on Robby's day, and then, once I've seen his sitter out, start gathering all the things on Abby's list. Apparently Abby has become a believer of the Boy Scout motto -- she wants to be prepared for every possible eventuality. However, I don't think we're really going to need the baby thermometer, the bulb syringe or any of the other items in the baby first aid kit. So I'm using my veto powers on that one. I've gotten most of the other stuff packed up and ready to go when I hear rustling and whimpering from the baby monitor. 

By the time I reach Robby's room, he's reached a full blown cry. I peer over the crib at his scrunched up, howling face, and I can't help but grin. 

"Hey, buddy," I say softly. Immediately his eyes open and his crying drops off a notch. By the time I've reached into the crib and lifted him into my arms, he's quieted down. He's such a happy little guy -- slow to cry and quick to smile. I credit Abby for that. From the day he was born, she's been there grinning at him practically every waking moment of his life, and a lot of the sleeping moments of his life, too. Maybe he was pre-wired to be a happy soul, but it can't hurt having such a devoted mother who's always so happy to see you. Of course, his father is pretty happy to see him, too. 

I hold him up in the air above my head, which he loves. He gives me a big, drooly grin and starts to laugh. When I bring his belly down against my lips so that I can deliver a big raspberry, he positively shrieks in happiness. 

"Did you have a good nap? Huh? You're in an awfully good mood so I guess you got enough sleep. And that's a good thing because you'll never guess what. We're going out tonight. Yep, you're going to your first Christmas party. With all of Mommy and Daddy's friends from work. What do you think about that? Your mother's not too sure about it, but Aunt Susan helped to convince her. And now that you've had this late nap, I guess it won't matter so much if we keep you out a little bit late will it? And you can sleep anywhere. Just so long as Mommy's there, huh? Don't worry, I know the feeling." 

I deliver this whole monologue as I get Robby undressed, taking off his clothes and then removing a very wet diaper. He concentrates on shoving a baby wipe into his mouth. Not the most appetizing thing in the world, but I can't see that it will hurt him much. Abby would have a fit. But then, Abby's not here. 

"Mommy says you should take a bath," I tell the baby. "I think she wants you to look nice when we show you off to all our friends. So we'll get you a bath and get you all spiffed up, huh, sweetie? What do you say to a bath?" He just gurgles happily at me, so I'll take that as a yes. 

I go into the bathroom with a naked baby over my shoulder, expecting this bath thing to be a piece of cake. After all, I've given him lots of baths. Of course, it's only as I'm struggling to hold the baby in one arm while filling up the infant tub that I realize that usually Abby's been around. And usually one of us prepares the bath while the other entertains the baby. Have I really never done this from start to finish all on my own? That seems unbelievable. I'm sure Abby does it on her own all the time. And I spend just as much time with him as she does. But then again, Abby's been taking as many night shifts as she can so that she can spend the days with Robby. And when I get home as she's heading out the door, she usually already has the baby fed, bathed, and ready for bed. She makes it too easy on me. And at this moment, I'm not sure how she does it. 

I finally give up on trying to get the baby tub filled up at the sink, and just stick it in the regular tub. It means I'll have to kneel on the cold bathroom floor, but I guess I can stand it. I'm just about to put Robby in the tub when a warm, wet sensation covers my chest. 

"Hey," I say indignantly to my son, "You peed on me." He just smiles and coos at me, looking adorable. "You never pee on Mommy. Because if you did, I'm sure I'd hear about it. I'm sure she'd be laughing about it … but you _never_ pee on her. You get me all the time. Of course, Mommy is probably smart enough to not take your diaper off until she's actually ready to put you in the tub, huh? So I guess this is all my fault, huh? Oh well, I'm probably gonna be soaked by the time we get through this bath anyway." 

Sure enough, by the time Robby's bath is over, I'm wetter than he is. He kicked and splashed his way through the whole thing, having a great time judging by the giggling. I didn't have quite as much fun, trying to keep the soap out of his eyes, the water off myself, and somehow manage to hold on to a wet, slippery baby. As soon as most of the bathwater was all over me, I decided he was suitably clean and lifted him into my arms, wrapping a towel around him. And now I've got him back on the changing table in the nursery, carefully drying him off before getting him dressed. 

"Mommy wants you to look especially nice tonight, she said to put on one of your new sleepers. She wouldn't want you going out in something stained or pilly," I tell Robby as I get his diaper, with lots of rash cream, on him and then dress him in the onesie and sleeper, as per Abby's instructions. And then it's time to get Daddy dressed as well. 

Robby rolls around on the floor of our bedroom chewing on Abby's hairbrush while I find something clean and dry to put on. As soon as I'm ready, I pick him and run my hand through his soft, brown curls, deciding that his hair is fully dry. I think even Abby would be satisfied that it's safe to take him out in the cold. Especially once I have him all bundled up in hat, mittens and snowsuit. I even put up his hood and wrap the built-in mittens around his little hands. By now he's starting to look like that kid in _A Christmas Story_ who is wrapped up so tight he can't even move his arms. If only I had a giant scarf to wrap around Robby's head, the look would be complete. If I were bundled up like this, I wouldn't be happy, but Robby is incredibly patient. Not to mention incredibly adorable in his little snowsuit. I get him into his carseat, the cover on the carseat, and then heft the loaded diaper bag over one shoulder and Robby in his seat in my other hand. 

I've broken into a sweat by the time I get him settled into the car. Luckily the drive goes smoothly with Robby happily occupied by alternately sucking on and then removing his pacifier to inspect it before popping it back in his mouth again. When did his hand-eye coordination get so good? It's just one more time that I realize how fast time moves and how quickly things change. It wasn't very long ago that I couldn't have imagined that things would ever work out for Abby and I. And now … now we have Robby, and we're this happy little family, eagerly anticipating our first Christmas together. 

"We're here," I say cheerfully to Robby as soon as I park the car just down the street from Ike's. "You wanna go see Mommy?" I ask, as I open up the door and prepare to get him out of the car. "Mommy can't wait to see you, you know." I close the little flap on the cover so that his face is covered and he won't get cold on the short walk. Then I toss the blanket over the whole works just to make Abby happy. 

I push through the door with the baby and the diaper bag none too gracefully, drawing everyone's attention. Just because I dropped the diaper bag twice and banged the carseat into the wall scaring Robby and making him howl … is that any reason for everyone to turn and stare at me? Of course, Abby looks over at us from the other side of the room and immediately her face lights up with a smile which turns to concern when she hears his cries. She puts down whatever she was eating and hurries across the room looking a little worried, but mostly excited. The excited look is one I know well. Her eyes all lit up at the thought of seeing her favorite guy. Naturally she bypasses me completely and just crouches down at the level of the carseat I'm still holding, removing the blanket and lifting the flap on the cover so that she can see the baby's face.

"Robby! Hi, baby. Robert Chase, what are you doing?" She asks in baby talk, as if she can't hear that what he is doing is screaming his head off. 

She looks up at me for a moment and then takes the carseat out of my hand, rushing over to the table with it. By the time I've gotten the diaper bag back together and made my way to the table, she's gotten the still-crying baby all unwrapped, and is lifting him out of his seat. 

"Oh, what's the matter, sweetie?" She coos at him, cuddling him against her chest. "Shh, it's okay. Mommy's here. You don't have to cry. I've got you." She's twisting back and forth, creating a rocking motion to sooth Robby, her arms wrapped tightly around him, one hand cradling his little head against her. She bends her head down to kiss the top of his head, but he cries on She tries jiggling him up and down gently, but he keeps crying. Our friends are going to think we've been lying about what a sweet, quiet baby we have. 

"Hi," I say to Abby, giving her a quick kiss as I drop the diaper bag down on the table next to the carseat, the blanket, the snowsuit. 

"Do you have a nuk?" Is all she says, asking about a pacifier for the baby.

"I'm glad to see you, too. But don't bother to say 'hi' or anything." 

"Hi," she says to me, giving me a little smile. "Do you have a nuk?" 

"He had one in the car, there should be one in the carseat."

She shakes her head at me. "He didn't have it when I took him out. And I didn't see one anywhere in the carseat." I check for myself, but it's pointless. I can't find it either. "Can you get one out of the diaper bag?" 

"Sure, which pocket are they in?" 

"How would I know?" She asks. "You're the one who packed it." 

"I didn't pack any pacifiers," I say, thinking that this could be bad. Very bad. Abby's not gonna be happy. And neither is Robby who is still wailing in his mother's arms. 

"What do you mean you didn't bring any pacifiers? I put them on the list."

"Yeah, but I thought there were always a couple in the bag." 

"Usually there are, but I took them all out to run them through the dishwasher. That's why I put them on the list. I can't believe you didn't bring pacifiers." She says this as if it's not a minor oversight, but rather a huge tragedy. 

"Well, he had one in his mouth," I say in my own defense.

"Yeah, and you didn't even clip it to him. Who knows where it is now. And you didn't bring any extras." The 'what is _wrong_ with you' is implied by the look on her face. "He needs a nuk. He's all wound up now, and he needs it to calm him down." She's right. Even I know that much. 

"How about we try a bottle?" I offer. 

"He won't take it if he's crying like this," she says. "We need a pacifier. But let's not panic, we must have one on us somewhere." Susan takes a crying Robby from Abby, inspiring his screaming to increase so that Abby promptly takes him back over Susan protests. Abby shifts him onto her shoulder, holding him with one arm while she and I start a long range nuk search. Pockets, purse, diaper bag. I even go back out to the car. By the time I return with two pacifiers in hand, Abby's already got a quiet Robby back in her arms happily sucking on a binky that she must have found somewhere. I give her a questioning look. 

"Coat pocket," she says. Then she gestures to the table. "Purse and diaper bag … in the wrong pocket of the diaper bag." 

I hold out the ones that I've found. "Backseat and glove compartment." She nods her head knowingly. "Sad, very sad," I comment. 

"What?" she asks. She's smiling down at Robby, holding one of his little hands, which she brings up to her lips and kisses. He smiles at her around the pacifier, happy and calm now. She --and a silicon nipple -- can always manage to produce this reaction in him. And clearly he has the same effect on her. I've never known her to be as happy as she is when she's holding our baby in her arms. Talk about finding your true calling. 

"What constitutes a crisis in our lives these days," I say, answering her question as I sit down at the table next to her. We seem to be alone for the moment, with most of our colleagues milling around by the bar with a few brave --or drunk-- ones already dancing to the holiday music. 

"If a lost pacifier is the best crisis we can come up with, I'll take it," she says. "Besides, we get more than enough excitement at work." She's right about that. I just hope our home life with all be this smooth. I'm sure there will times when things aren't exactly easy. That happens now sometimes -- when Robby is sick or our work schedules get too demanding. But we work through it together and everything usually turns out just fine. "John? Earth to Carter." 

"What?" 

She giggles a little bit, tearing her eyes away from Robby long enough to look at me. "I was asking how he was when you got home. Did he have a good day?" 

"Oh. Sorry. Yeah, I hear he was an angel all day. He must know Santa is watching." Abby rolls her eyes at me for that. "And he was even sleeping when I got home, so he should be ready to party all night long." 

"Great." Somehow I don't think she really thinks it's that great. "Did you give him a bath?" 

"Yes, Mommy. Just like you told me, too. I even managed to get him dressed and everything."

"And way to pick out something appropriate." 

"What? It's a nice, warm sleeper, just like you wanted."

"But you didn't think to choose one of the seven pairs of Christmas pajamas he has? Or at least something red?" Uh, no … I didn't think about that. 

"Well, there's green in that," I say. 

"Lime green. And two shades of blue. How incredibly Christmasy."

"But it's cute. And he looks so nice in it. Besides it was a gift from Aunt Susan, I'm sure she'll be happy to see him in it." 

"Did I just hear my name?" Susan asks, appearing next to us. "Hi, Robby. Hey, handsome. Your daddy's right, you do look awfully nice in this outfit. I'm so glad I got it for you. Although since it is two days until Christmas, you would have thought Daddy would put you in something red." 

"Thank you," Abby says, tossing me a significant look. 

"Can I hold him?" Susan asks, holding her arms out for Robby.

"Oh, sure. Now that he stopped crying, you want him," Abby teases her, handing Robby over.

"Hey, I wanted him then. You took him back remember?" Turning to Robby who is now in her arms she says, "Hi, little guy. Glad you could join us tonight … glad your mommy didn't insist on keeping you all to herself tonight after all. Wanna go meet everybody, huh? Maybe Daddy will ask Mommy to dance." 

"Susan," Abby calls, watching her depart with the baby, "He's probably getting hungry … You didn't feed him, did you?" She turns to ask me.

"No, I knew how much you wanted to see him. So since he didn't really seem hungry, and he'd just woken up, I didn't want to take the time."

"If he starts to get fussy, we'll take him back and give him his dinner, okay?" Susan nods and waves her hand impatiently, happily making the rounds with Robby. Really, Abby and I should be the ones showing him off, but then again, I'm not going to complain too much if I get some time alone with Abby while Robby's close enough for us to keep an eye on him. It's perfect really … almost like a date, but we don't have to worry about leaving the baby behind.

"So what do you say?" I ask Abby, holding out my hand to her. "You wanna dance?" 

"Oh, I don't know …" she says, reluctantly, one hand falling to her slightly rounded stomach. 

"I promise not to try any of my swing dance moves on you. C'mon, it'll be fun." 

"Well … okay." She gives me her hand and I lead her to the area that seems to have been designated for dancing.

"Oh, this is a good one for dancing," I say as a new song starts up. 

"And so appropriate too," Abby says with a smile. And then she starts quietly singing along with the song. "I don't want a lot for Christmas. There is just one thing I need. I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own. More than you could ever know. Make my wish come true.. All I want for Christmas is you…" It's quite a lively song, and we're not doing too bad working out some of the moves we haven't had a chance to practice since our wedding reception. It was the last time we danced together, the last time we celebrated with our friends, the last party we've been to. Since then we've had other, more pressing concerns than our social life. "Make my wish come true

Baby, all I want for Christmas is you … All I want for Christmas is you, baby…" Abby's still signing to me as the song comes to an end. 

"You have me," I tell her, pulling her close to me, as a slower song begins.

"I know. And you really are all that I want for Christmas. Well, you … and Robby … and our new baby. What more could I ever want?" She nuzzles her head up against shoulder, the two of us dancing close together now.

"So I should return all your Christmas gifts then?" I ask. 

"Well …" she says with a grin, "You did go to all that trouble to buy them and wrap them … It would be a real shame for all that work to go to waste."

"Uh-huh. Yeah, I wouldn't want all that work to be a wasted effort. So I guess you'll have to open up your gifts even if you really don't want them."

"I'll suffer through it," she informs me. 

We spend the next few songs dancing and chatting as best we can over the music. Here under the glow of the colorful Christmas lights, her smile shining brighter than the brightest of the lights, she's more beautiful than ever. I somehow manage to dance us over to a corner, and then I point up. Abby's eyes follow my pointing finger.

"Mistletoe," I say with a smile. 

"Since when do you need an excuse?" 

"It's good luck to kiss under the mistletoe," I tell her. 

"It is? I've never heard that. You're making that up." 

"I'm not making it up. I …"

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up and kiss me." Well that a request I can live with. It's a nice, soft, sweet kiss that is interrupted by the crying of a baby. The story of our lives these days. We've been keeping an eye out as we danced, watching Robby get passed around among our friends. Now, hearing his cry, Abby and I pull apart and look in the direction from which the sound is coming. Luka is holding a fussing Robby … but even with Susan trying to distract and quiet the baby, his crying is increasing. Susan gestures to us that everything is fine and seems to be encouraging us to stay on the dance floor. But I think we all know that isn't going to happen.

"He's hungry," Abby says. I nod, glancing at my watch. I'm sure he is. 

"C'mon, let's go get him his dinner." 

"Hi, baby," Abby says as soon as we reach him, holding out her arms for him. He's already learned to reach out to the person he wants to go to, and he reaches now for Abby. 

"Sorry," Luka says, giving us an apologetic smile. "I promise I didn't pinch him." 

"I know," Abby tells him. "It's just time for his dinner." 

"Want me to feed him?" Susan offers. "You two can go back and dance some more. Just tell me what to give him." 

"No, that's okay. Thanks, though." 

"Really, it's no problem."

"Yeah," Luka says, "I'll help."

"Between both of us, we've had some experience," Susan informs us. "I'm sure we can manage to feed him." 

"I'm sure you can," Abby tells her. "But you're missing the point. I _want_ to feed him. I've been away from him all day, and I've missed him. You've been carrying him around all this time … now I want a turn. Mother's prerogative." 

"Okay, fine. I give up. I was just _trying _ to help you two get some quality time together. But if you don't want to go dance …" Susan says. 

"Why don't you go dance?" Abby asks her. 

"Oh, with who? Jerry? No thanks. Last time he stepped on my toes, and I still haven't recovered." 

I watch as Abby turns and looks Luka for a long moment. Then she reaches over and swats him on the shoulder, making the look a bit more significant as she nods her head toward Susan. Finally light seems to dawn for Luka. 

"Uh, Susan … would you like to dance?" He finally asks.

"Oh, uh …" I give Susan a gentle little push toward Luka. "Sure." She throws a look over her shoulder at us as they head toward the dance floor. 

"Well, that was our good deed for the day," I say as Abby and I head back over to the table where all Robby's stuff is. She begins searching through the diaper bag with one hand while she holds the baby in the other. 

"Here, let me do that," I offer. 

"No, I've got it." 

"Then let me take him," I say reaching over and taking the baby before she can protest. I start walking with him, trying to keep him as calm as possible while Abby assembles his meal. I watch her, though, while I walking the baby and whispering to him softly. Chuny comes up and starts an animated conversation with Abby, the likes of which I can't make out. But guessing by the gesturing toward the dance floor, it's probably random gossip about our fellow co-workers. I watch as Abby gamely joins in the conversation while preparing the baby's bottle. 

She's done it so much, I'm sure she can do it in her sleep. Probably has done it in her sleep, in fact. But she doesn't even have to look as she dumps the per-her-request, pre-measured powdered formula into the bottle, and she barely looks when she adds the water. She shakes up the formula and adds some of it to a plastic bowl containing a mound of dry baby cereal, mixing it up and then dumping in some strained peaches from a jar, all without missing a beat in the gossip fest that Sam and Haleh have now joined in on. She waves a bib over her head at me, so I go over and take it from her, fastening it around the baby's neck. I clear out the carseat and sit him in it, thinking we'll feed him in that, but Abby takes him back out again, settling him into her arms and starting to shovel his food into his mouth. Now that the baby is back in her arms, her focus shifts and she is paying much more attention to him than to the conversation around her. She's smiling and chuckling as she talks to Robby whose chocolate brown eyes are locked on her face as he laughs back at her in between spoonfuls of fruit-laced cereal. He's also drooling quite a bit of it over his cheek onto his bib as well as Abby's shirt, but she doesn't seem to mind in the least. Since she has this well in hand, I figure maybe I can make myself useful in some other way. 

"Do you want something to drink?" I ask her, noticing that everyone seems to be getting their beverages from the bar. There are some appetizers on the tables that our group seems to have claimed, but I'm not sure if we are getting any other food. Chicken wings and nachos make a great dinner, though, so it's nothing to complain about, I guess.

"Sure. Diet whatever-has-no-caffeine-in-it. And could you bring some napkins?" 

"Of course." I head to the bar and put in our drink order, and while I'm waiting Susan reappears from the dance floor. 

"She is so good with him," Susan says, watching Abby and Robby just like I am. "Incredible really." 

"Yeah. He's so lucky to have her … so am I." 

"I'm glad you finally figured that out. It sure took you long enough." 

"Abby says that things happen for a reason. That there was a reason that it took us so long to finally get it right. If things had happened any other way, we wouldn't have Robby. And that's something that neither of us can stand to think about." 

"How philosophical of her."

"She really believes it. She loves him so much … she says it doesn't matter anymore … all that pain I put her through. Because we're happy now. And she has Robby, who means the world to her. I'm not sure I've ever met anyone who was more perfectly designed to be a mother. She loves it. You should see her face when I bring him into our room in the morning, or when she goes to get him out of his crib. She just lights up at the sight of him. And the past couple weeks he's been sleeping later in the morning … so we're usually awake first. And she'll just lie there drumming her fingers, waiting for the first little sigh or whimper from the baby monitor. And then she's off and running. Sometimes she can't even stand to wait and she just goes and gets him while he's still sleeping. And you wouldn't believe the tears when she has to leave him to go to work … hers, not his. He's fine; she can't stand it. Even if I'm the one taking care of him while she works … she just hates to miss anything." 

"What do you think she'll do when baby number two gets here?" 

"She says she doesn't know yet, but I think she'll end up staying home full-time. I know there's a big part of her that really wants to finish her residency now. It's the only reason she doesn't stay home with Robby full-time. Well, that and the fact that I can be with him so much of the time. But this time around, I don't know … she'll be recovering from childbirth, then breastfeeding all with a toddler in the house. There will two babies to take care of which means twice as many baby-tending chores, twice as much attention that they need to be given, and twice as much guilt. You know how devoted she is to Robby. It's why we never spend much time away from home outside of work. She feels like if she's gonna work, that's her time away from him and the rest of the time should go to him. Or to our family. She's gonna feel twice as much pressure when there's another one. Not to mention that our sitter seems a bit freaked out about there being two babies so close in age."

"And you guys aren't freaked out about that?" Susan asks. 

"If we were, do you think we would have tried for another baby so soon?" 

"No, I guess not. Although, I'll tell you, I was surprised to find out it was … planned."

"We knew we wanted another one … Abby said she wasn't getting any younger and didn't want to waste any time."

"I know that story," Susan says with a laugh. "Still … they're gonna be so close." 

"Yeah. Well, we didn't really think she'd get pregnant immediately, but we're not complaining. We just feel incredibly lucky. And now that we know it's a girl … well, it'll be nice having one of each." 

"The perfect little storybook family."

"I don't know about the storybook part, but it's perfect for us. I'm just not sure we'd qualify for any idyllic storybooks." Although looking over at Abby and Robby now, I can't help but think we are pretty close to ideal. 

They've taken a break from his dinner, and she has him sitting on her lap facing her. She's holding his hands and clapping them together. I can tell by the expressions on her face and the way he's giggling that she's singing to him. Of course she is. I realize belatedly that _The Christmas Song_, sung by none other than the Chipmunks, is playing. Abby's developed some sort of obsession with the song this year and has been singing it to Robby for at least the last month. In the car, when she changes his diaper, at the grocery store. He loves it, of course, smiling happily ever time she hits that off-key, high-pitched "hula hoop." There will definitely be a hula hoop under the tree for Abby to make up for the five thousand times I've had to listen to her -- or Alvin-- sing the line about still wanting a hula hoop. 

"She's nuts. A terrific mom, but a little bit wacky. Although maybe that's what makes her so good at it," Susan says. 

"She'll do anything to make him smile. Public humiliation included. Of course that's probably because when he's in the room, she seems to forget that anyone else exists. But he just adores her."

"He's not the only one." 

"Yeah, I feel the same way." 

"I'm sure you do. But that's now what I meant." I give her a questioning look. "Kids. Other people's kids. They seem to flock to her these days. I don't know if she's putting out some sort of mommy radar, but every time I turn around, she's got some kid glued to her."

"Smart kids." 

"Smarter than you." 

"Yes, I'm an idiot. This was established long ago. And believe me, Abby doesn't let me forget so I don't need you to remind me."

"A little ass-kissing never hurt anybody."

"I like to think of it as … showing my appreciation for her." 

"Whatever lets you sleep at night." 

"I'm gonna show my appreciate for _her_ now by taking this Sprite to her."

"Are you trying to say you don't appreciate me?" 

"I don't appreciate your mockery."

"Just trying to keep you on the straight and narrow, that's all. You could be a little more grateful," she calls as I walk away. 

"I hear they were playing your song," I say to Abby as I sit down next her. "Robby seemed to be enjoying your performance." 

"He never gets tired of it." Well that makes one of us. I keep that thought to myself, though. "You love it, don't you?" She asks Robby who is bouncing in her lap. His little hand reaches out and pats Abby's belly. Pat, pat, pat. "What's that? Is that your baby sister? Yeah, that's your little sister in there." For some reason Robby finds this funny and laughs before flopping forward onto Abby's chest. A couple weeks ago she would have howled at that kind of pressure against her pregnant boobs, but they aren't sore anymore so now they've just become a nice pillow for Robby. Or occasionally even me. 

"Poor kid," Abby is saying, rubbing Robby's back, "You have no idea what's about to happen you." 

"We're making him a big brother, Abby … not shipping him off to boarding school. I think he'll be fine. It'll be good for him. And he'll never remember a time when he didn't have a little sister. It'll probably be harder on us than it is on him." 

"I don't know about that," Abby says, looking down at Robby who is now chewing on her shirt. "You wanna finish your cereal, Robby?" She turns him around on her lap, so that he's lounging back against her, his little head fitting nicely in between those pregnant boobs of hers. 

"What?" She asks, seeing the look I'm giving her.

"Jealous. He's got the best seat in the house. How come he always gets to sit there?" I ask, picking up Robby's bowl and spoon and taking over the feeding. 

"Because _he's_ my baby. Also, he weighs about a tenth of what you do."

"Good point," I concede. 

"I could probably make it up to you once we get home, though. I'm not gonna let you sit on my lap, but I'm sure we can think of something," she says coquettishly, reaching over to stroke my shoulder and neck lightly with one finger. 

"Maybe we should go home now," I suggest. 

"Oh, no way. After all the trouble you went to, along with Susan, to convince me to come … and after you brought the baby out in the cold and all … we're staying. We've haven't even had dinner yet." 

"Is there gonna be dinner?" 

"They ordered some pizzas."

"They make pizza here?" 

"I guess. Either that or they're gonna have them delivered from Pizza Hut. I don't much care, I just hope they get here soon before I eat the table cloth."

Seems the appetizers have disappeared, and poor Abby usually eats every half hour these days. Luckily for her, just about the time I get done scraping the up the last bite of Robby's dinner, the pizzas arrive. We start out with Robby in his carseat on the floor with a couple of toys. But since his view of the bottom of our chairs is really not that exciting, it doesn't last long. There's probably only one thing that could tear Abby away from food, and a fussing Robby is it. She lifts him into her arms and continues to eat one-handed … not too hard to do with pizza. Still, I feel bad. So we end up taking turns passing him back and forth, but he's still fussing and getting louder. We start to worry that it's annoying everyone else. 

"Maybe we should walk him," I suggest. 

"Maybe he needs to burp," Abby says. 

"Maybe he wants some pizza," Susan tosses out. Sure enough, he does seem to be intently following the path of the pizza to our mouths, even while he cries. 

"We could give him a crust," I say.

"No!" Abby says, acting like I suggested letting him play with hand grenades.

"Why not? It's pretty soft … he'll just chew on it." 

"Yeah, and choke." 

"He's not gonna choke," I say, handing him my crust. He stops fussing and sticks the end in his mouth.

"Don't do _that_!" Abby hisses at me, taking the crust out his mouth and making him scream. 

"Now you made him cry," I say. 

"No, you made him cry. You're the one who gave it to him in the first place, and then I had to take it away. Thanks a lot."

"You didn't have to take it away. He was happy and quiet."

"I'd rather have him screaming than choking to death." This comes out shrill enough that anyone at the table who wasn't already staring at us, is staring at us now. 

"He wasn't going to choke. And even if he did, there's a table full of doctors here. I don't think he's really in any danger. He has to learn to eat some time. Or were you planning to follow him to kindergarten and chew up all his food for him?" I know I've pushed her too far the minute the words are out of my mouth. Her eyes narrow at me, and if it weren't for the fact that I'm holding the baby, she would probably have thrown her drink in my face. Instead she gets up very calmly and walks away from the table toward the bathrooms. But the sobs break loose before she gets there, and no one misses that fact. So now I have a table full of people giving me the evil eye. 

"What?" I ask, all indignant. 

"Very smooth, Carter," Sam says. 

"Yeah," Alex chimes in, "What kind of jackass makes his pregnant wife cry?"

"Alex!" Sam scolds, "What is wrong with you? You can't talk to people like that. Now apologize to Dr. Carter." 

"Sorry," he mumbles sounding anything but. "But Mom, you just said …" 

"Mind your own business and eat your pizza," Sam tells him. 

"But Mom …" 

"Just eat!" Sam yells.

"You wanna go or should I?" Susan asks. 

"I'll go." 

"Give me him," Susan says, holding out her arms for Robby. 

I hand him over and fish out one of those extra nuks from my pocket. "Here. Try this." I leave Susan to handle one crying member of my family while I go to the ladies' room to find the other. Of course I just waltz right in, startling some woman who is on her way out. But I can tell Abby's in here by the sniffling and nose-blowing that's going on. 

"Abby? Look, I'm sorry, okay? C'mon out. Come back to the party before your pizza gets cold." 

"I'm not hungry," she says in her best pouting voice. This makes me think that my Daddy's little girl that Abby is currently growing is going to really give us a run for our money. But Abby voluntarily giving up a meal? She must really be upset. 

"Abby? Open up."

"No."

"Please?" 

"No!" Why does she have to be so stubborn? 

"Don't make me crawl under there." No response. "Okay, fine." This ought to be interesting. But I drop down to my knees and slither under the door of the stall. I manage to stand up and come face to face with Abby. Not much room in these things. At least she's not crying anymore. In fact she's smiling, albeit against her own wishes. Still she can't seem to hide it. 

"I can't believe you just did that." 

"Well, I did." 

"I see that." 

"So since I'm here … you wanna do it?" 

She laughs, like I knew she would. "No, not especially." 

"Then how about going to back to the party?" She shrugs. I pick up her hand. "I'm sorry. I promise not to try to choke the baby anymore. And I'm sorry I made you feel bad when you were just looking out for him. I know it's only because you love him so much … and I'm glad you are so concerned about him." 

"No, I'm sorry. I overreacted. And you're right. I'm too overprotective." 

"You're his mother, Abby … that's your job. To protect him." 

"Yeah, but too much of a good thing is still too much. And I have to learn to … let go a little bit. You're his father, and I have to learn to respect your input."

"Well …" I don't really want to say it, but yeah, that would be nice.

"I know. I know. I have to stop trying to be the boss all the time. He's not mine; he's ours. It's just-- " 

"You're a new mom," I say, interrupting her as I pick up her other hand. "It's natural that you want to be in control. It's just another way of trying to protect him."

"Yeah, but I don't need to protect him from you. You're his father. And you're pretty good at it." 

"Well, I did manage to get him here all in one piece. Not to mention all that stuff on your list."

"So I'm a little nuts sometimes when it comes to Robby." 

"Not nuts … thorough." 

"Thorough?"

"Meticulous?" 

"Whatever. Look, I'll try to listen to you more," she says, slipping her arms around me and leaning against me. "After all, it's not like I've done this before either … I don't get to have a monopoly on making the decisions about Robby." 

"You're a good mom, Abby. I wouldn't want anyone else raising my children. I'd rather have you be a little overly concerned than not concerned at all. Every kid should be lucky enough to have a mother as dedicated as you are."

She smiles up at me, and I lean down to give her a little kiss-and-make-up kiss.

"Hey! Are you two still in here?" Susan is yelling from the doorway.

"Yes," Abby says.

"Are you two still dressed?" 

"Yes!" Abby yells back. 

"Damn, I'm gonna lose the bet," Susan says. 

I reach behind me and twist open the lock on the stall, bumping the door open and holding it for Abby. She walks out first and crosses her arms, giving Susan a look. 

"What bet?" 

"Whether or not you guys were gonna have sex in here. And if so, how many times? I went conservative and said just once … but only because I figured you guys would be paranoid that I was gonna run off with Robby."

"And where is Robby?" I ask her as we work our way back to the table. She just nods at the table where Sam is holding and jiggling the baby. Alex is leaning over talking to Robby and making him smile. Abby starts toward that side of the table, but then seems to reconsider and instead goes back to her own seat. So I go over to Sam and Robby, reaching down to tickle his belly.

"Is he being okay now?" 

"He's fine." She says that like it should be obvious. And I guess it should be since he's smiling.

"He might want his bottle soon … so I'll take him if he starts fussing again." 

"I'll do it," Sam says. I glance over at Abby. "Oh, c'mon … I have fed a baby before," she says, gesturing to Alex. Okay, so she's had some experience. And really, it's not that we don't trust other people … it's like Abby said earlier, we're selfish about sharing him. Half the time we fight between ourselves about who gets to feed him. Still, it's Christmas … a time for sharing. So Abby passes the bottle to me, and I pass it to Sam. 

"Can I do it?" Alex asks. This weird little kid wants to feed a baby? How … odd. 

"No," Sam tells him.

"Why not?"

"It's my turn," she says. I half expect her to stick out her tongue at him, but she's turned back to Robby and is babbling at him about his 'ba-ba.' Since he seems happy enough, I go back to my seat to finish my dinner. 

As the evening goes on, it becomes apparent that Robby is the hit of the party. He's being passed around to everyone and doesn't seem to mind at all. Guess he's going to be a social little thing in spite of the fact that he hasn't really had a lot of exposure to this kind of thing. It does work out nicely that he's so willing to go to other people. It gives Abby and I some time to chat with our friends and spend more quality time together. 

I'm sitting down watching Abby dance with Robby when she catches my eye and smiles. She passes the baby off to Haleh who probably won the contest to be the next to hold him by being the closest to them. Abby works her ways through the room until she gets to me, and then she perches on my lap. 

"Hi," she says, wrapping her arms loosely around my neck.

"Hi. Are you having fun?"

"Yeah," she nods. "I am. Thanks for talking me into it."

"Anytime."

"We really should do it more often. Robby seems to be having a great time, so maybe it's good for him to get out among people other than his parents once in a while."

"Yeah, it's probably good to get him out of house once in a while. He seems happy being passed around, too." 

"I guess he's gonna be a people person, like his daddy."

"Because his mom is such a wallflower," I say sarcastically. "I saw you out there dancing with everyone. At one point I thought maybe you were gonna get up and dance on the bar."

"Yeah, I was gonna haul my pregnant self up there and dance a jig. I don't think so. Besides, you would have wrestled me to the ground first." 

"True." 

"Hey, I've been thinking," she says, picking up my hand and playing with my fingers. 

"Uh-oh." 

"No, I think you'll like this. I was thinking that, after the holidays, the next time that we have a day off … or at least on a day when one of us is home with the baby, we should take Susan up on her numerous offers to baby-sit and go out for dinner or something. Just the two of us."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you're ready?" 

"No. But I think he is. Look at him, he's fine. He's not crying for us. And he loves Susan so I think he would be fine with her for a few hours. The way he's gone to everybody tonight, he'd probably be fine with anyone for a few hours. And I think … it's time. Soon enough there'll be two … and I'm not sure anyone is crazy enough to volunteer for that job."

"No, Susan probably is." 

"I just figure it would be a good idea to have some time … you know, just the two of us. And … you're right, we should get out more. So should he. So even if it's just going to dinner or over to a friend's place … we should take him out more. I want him to have structure and routine … but I don't want him to be too sheltered. I guess it won't hurt to take him out more often. Or even without him … sometimes." 

"What's that?" Susan asks, joining us. "You wouldn't be talking about going out without the baby, would you?" 

"Maybe," Abby says. 

"Dibs on the baby-sitting." 

"That's what we were just discussing," I tell her. "We're gonna take you up on those offers … soon."

"Good. I can't wait. God, I still can't believe it." 

"What?" Abby asks.

"You two. Married … with a baby. And another one on the way. Amazing."

"Who would have thought, huh?" I ask. 

"For a while there … not me, that's for sure," Abby says, but her fingers are running through the hair at the nape of my neck.

"This time last year, could you even imagine what things would be like _this _year?" 

"No," Abby says quickly, chuckling. 

"Could you imagine that she'd be here?" I ask her, rubbing her little belly. 

"No." 

"Next year," Susan says, "there'll be two of them. We'll all be passing the baby around, and Robby …"

"He'll be walking and talking," Abby says. Something that I know will, of course, happen. But it's still hard to imagine. "And climbing all over everything … we'll be chasing him non-stop." She doesn't sound too upset at the prospect, though.

"And maybe you'll be working on number three by then," Susan teases us. I expect Abby to either tease Susan right back or put a quick end to the idea. 

But all she says is, "Maybe." And she sounds perfectly serious. Well, this is news to me. 

"Excuse me?" I ask her.

She shrugs, turning to smile at me. "You never know." 

"You're not serious." 

"I just said 'maybe.'"

"Oh my God, you are serious." 

"What's wrong, Carter?" Susan asks. "Don't tell me you're opposed to the idea. I thought you'd be all for repopulating the world." 

"I don't have a problem with it. But I wouldn't have to do the work. So whatever she wants. Whatever you want," I say turning to Abby, giving her a little kiss on the cheek. 

"It's just a possibility … I'm not picking out names or anything." 

"Well that's good, since we still need to pick a name for this one." I pat her stomach lightly. 

"How is that whole name thing going?" Susan wants to know. 

"Don't ask," Abby tells her. 

"Eww!" Alex's voice carries across the room to us. "Something stinks. It smells like --"

"Alex," Sam cuts him off. 

"Gee, I wonder what that could be about," Abby says, extricating herself from me and going to retrieve Robby, the likely culprit of the foul odor. And sure enough, when she walks by with him, I can tell he's a little ripe. 

"I'll do it," I say getting up.

"Nope, I got it."

"Sure?"

"Yep. But you could do something for me, if you don't mind."

"Anything."

"Get me a refill?" She asks, handing me her empty glass. Our waitress long since abandoned us to our own devices, so I head to the bar. Susan trails after Abby, although why she'd want to be a witness to that scene is beyond me.

When I get back to the table, I hear Abby and Susan, but I don't see them. I spot them kneeling on the floor in the midst of the diaper change. Abby hates those things in the public bathrooms, and I guess since it's late and no one is around, she's opted to use the changing pad from the diaper bag on a quiet corner of the floor. 

"Oh, look," Susan's saying, as she appears to be tickling Robby's belly, "it's so cute."

"I know. And so tiny. Such a cute, little thing," Abby agrees. 

"And it's just so adorable the way it sticks out," Susan adds. Now wait a minute. What exactly are they talking about? 

"Just like a Cabbage Patch Kid," Abby says. I didn't know those things were anatomically correct. 

"You know," I say, walking over towards them, "I don't think Robby would appreciate you using the words 'tiny' or 'little' or even 'cute.' And is this really an appropriate conversation to be having anyway?" 

Abby finishes zipping up the baby's sleeper and looks up at me. "Well, yes. Considering _we_ were talking about his belly button."

"You hardly ever see outties," Susan says.

"I'll be an outty in a few weeks," Abby says, running her hand over her stomach. 

"Oh yeah, that's right," Susan says. 

"You were just talking about his belly button?" 

"Yes," Abby tells me, handing the baby up to me, "But way to have your mind in the gutter. And you know, now that you mention it … _that's _kind of a cute, little thing too." 

"Do you have to use the word 'little?' It's kind of …"

"What?" 

"Insulting?" 

"Not to him. He's a baby. I don't think he's worried about me dissing his … equipment. Not that I was, of course … because everything is just the way it's supposed to be." 

"Men," Susan says, rolling her eyes.

"So weird." 

"I just don't think you need to use the word 'little' to describe our son's penis, of all things. I wouldn't want him getting some sort of complex."

"I think you're the one with the complex," Susan helpfully throws out. 

"Relax, Carter. It's only _little_ comparatively speaking. But he's a baby, everything about him is little. Isn't it, baby?" Abby turns from me and starts talking to Robby in her best motherese voice. "Yes, look at your little fingers … and your tiny little fingernails … yeah." Robby is smiling back at her and reaching for her. "Wait a minute, sweetie. Let me go wash my hands. Mommy'll be right back." 

He watches her walk away and starts to cry. Susan tries to cheer him up, but to no avail. He must be getting tired if he just wants Abby. Usually I'll do fine. But when he's tired, he definitely becomes a mama's boy. He seems relieved when Abby returns. She takes him, and quiets him down easily. 

"Can you make up that other bottle? I think he's probably ready for it." 

"Sure," I say and soon we are settled back at the table with Abby rocking Robby back and forth gently while she feeds him his bottle. I watch her watching him. She strokes his cheek and smiles at him as his eyes get heavier and heavier and finally fall closed. I can't believe he's sleeping in the midst of all this noise. 

"Wow, it's really getting late," Abby says, looking at the clock. "I guess we should get him home." 

"Now that he's asleep." 

"Yeah, I know … but still." 

"Okay," I agree, getting up and gathering our stuff together. 

"Are you guys leaving already?" Sam asks. "It's still early." 

"Yeah, but the baby's asleep." 

She gives me a puzzled look. "Well, if he's already asleep, why do you have to go?" 

"We should really get him home to his own bed," Abby says. 

"His _own_ bed?" I ask. "Since when does he sleep in his own bed?"

"Where does he sleep?" Sam asks. 

"In our bed. Abby rubs his belly until he falls asleep." 

"And then I do the same for his father. So you've got nothing to be jealous about." Suddenly I remember that promise that Abby made me earlier and wonder is she still intends to keep it. She's looking a little tired herself by now. She may fall asleep before we get home. 

"Anyway, I should really get Abby home, too. She needs her rest, you know." 

"He just thinks he's gonna get lucky," Abby confides to Sam. 

"Abby!" I don't know if more outraged that she says these things or that she can always seem to read my mind.

"Oh, well … hey, then. Have a good night. And a merry Christmas," Sam offers. 

"You too," Abby tells her. "I know we'll have a very merry Christmas," she adds more quietly looking down at the sleeping baby in her arms. 

It's almost an hour later by the time we get home. Between wrestling a sleeping Robby into his winter gear and then making the rounds to say good-bye to all our friends and co-workers, it wasn't easy to get out of there. The drive home ended up being uneventful except for an inefficient heater which left Abby freezing most of the way home. Good thing she insisted on all the extras for the baby … he stayed nice and warm and didn't even stir when we brought him in the house and unbundled him. 

I walk into the living room with the hot cocoa that I've made for Abby and I and find her wrapped in a blanket on the couch, sitting there with the baby sleeping upright on her chest. The only light in the room is being cast from the Christmas tree lights and with carols playing softly in the background, it's the kind of perfect Christmas moment that I want to freeze and capture in my memory. Years from now I want to be able to think back to Robby's first Christmas and remember this. I don't care if I can't remember what gifts we gave him or what cute little outfit we dressed him in, but I know I want to remember him sound asleep in his mother's arms, both of them surrounded by the glow of the lights. 

"I didn't want to put him down yet," Abby says, her voice breaking my reverie. 

"I'm glad you didn't. I was actually just enjoying the moment. Very much a _Silent Night_ type moment."

"Huh?" Abby asks, perhaps confused because _Silent Night_ isn't the song that is playing. 

"You know '… round yon virgin, mother and child …'" 

"Yeah … except for the virgin part." 

"You know what I mean," I say, setting the mugs on the coffee table and sitting down next my family. "It's what Christmas is really all about. Not the gifts or the parties, but … family. Sharing the holidays with the people you love. And all the magic that goes along with the season. And here you and Robby are, sitting in the dark with tree all light up and the Christmas carols … it's like something out of a Currier and Ives painting." 

"Less horse-drawn carriages, though," she says with a smile. 

"I can fix that, if you want." 

"No, that's okay. I think we'll do just fine without them." She looks down at the baby who's head is nestled contentedly on her chest. His legs are bent up underneath him, his bottom resting on Abby's arm. He's sucking on his pacifier energetically even as he sleeps. And while we watch, he sighs deeply, nuzzling closer to his mommy. Lucky kid. I wouldn't mind trading places with him. I wonder if he knows how lucky he is? Abby kisses his soft curls, smiling a smile of total satisfaction. With one hand rubbing Robby's back and the other resting on her burgeoning belly, Abby seems … complete.

"It really is going to be a great Christmas. The best Christmas ever," I say. 

"Hmm, yeah … it's gonna be a lot fun with this one."

"What's Christmas without kids around? That's the best part."

"Yeah. I know he doesn't understand any of this yet, but it's still fun to watch him. I love the way he stares at the lights and tries to pull all the bows off the gifts. And buying all his toys was so much fun … even if he'll probably ignore them all in favor of eating the wrapping paper."

"Just one more day," I remind her. 

"I know. It's almost Christmas Eve already."

"We should do something special."

"Like what?" She asks.

"I don't know yet … but something. Start up some traditions."

"If it's not too cold, I guess we could get in on that horse-drawn carriage action after all. Ride around and look at the lights. Or just walk up Michigan Avenue. See the big tree at the Hancock building. Take Robby to see Santa Claus. Or we could go the children's ward at the hospital. Take cookies or something, spread good cheer. Or deliver some toys to a children's home. And when we come home, I can cook a nice holiday dinner." 

"Well, you're just full of good ideas, aren't you? But you're cooking for the family on Christmas."

"Don't remind me."

"So maybe I could cook tomorrow." 

"Can you do that?"

"What?"

"Cook?"

"How hard is it to put a ham in the oven? I let you handle the turkey."

"You mean ruin the turkey. You know, I'm starting to get nervous. Who's idea was it to have the whole family?"

"Yours."

"Must have been some sort of pregnancy-induced madness."

"It won't be that bad. And you just said you were looking forward to Christmas." 

"Sure. Christmas morning. With Robby. But once my brother and all the grandparents get here … it's gonna be insane. I'm gonna be insane." But she's smiling, and I think she's secretly looking forward to it.

"So it'll be a little chaotic. It's only gonna get worse from here on out. Wait until next year when there's a baby and a toddler in the house. Along with all the grandparents and various other family members."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that," she says, looking a bit nervous. "How would you feel if things got even more chaotic?"

"Why? Who else do you want to invite?" 

"No, I didn't mean this year. I meant … in the future. You know, as our family grows." 

Oh, I think I see where she's going now. "I told you Abby, if you want to have another baby next year, I'm all for it."

"Well … I don't know about _next year_ … but anyway, that's not really what I was talking about either." 

"Okay, now I'm confused." 

"Well, you know how I mentioned taking toys to a children's home?" I nod. "Well … I don't know. Maybe it's crazy. Maybe it's just the season. But it seems like this time of year especially, we have all these requests for donations to all these worthy causes … children's funds, children's homes. And I guess -- maybe because it's Christmas and Christmas is all about kids-- it just makes me realize how much we have. How many people have nothing. How many children have nothing. And how many of them need good homes. It's probably a crazy idea." She waves her hand in the air as if dismissing it all as nothing but nonsense. 

"It's not a crazy idea, Abby. It's a beautiful idea. You want to share our home with children who need a family. That is what you're talking about, right?"

"Well, I don't think it's something we can do right now; we've already got our hands full … but … maybe someday. Or maybe I'm just overcome with holiday spirit and a week from now I'll think it's all insanity."

"No, I think you've just been inspired by the season, but I'll bet that you won't change your mind. And I … well, I think it's a great idea."

"Really?" 

"Absolutely. I think we'd be great at it. We certainly have the resources and experience to deal with whatever … challenges would come along as part of the package."

Abby nods and looks down at the baby, "And I think we could love them as our own … because once they're with you, they're yours. You can't help but love them for who they are. It doesn't matter where they came from. Although …" 

"What?" I can't imagine that Abby, of all people, really doubts her ability to love any child that might share our home and our lives. After all, Abby is the one who takes one look at a stranger's child in need of comfort and care and immediately jumps in to protect and care for that child. And with the way she loves Robby --and our little girl, too, even though she's not here yet-- with such complete devotion, I know that _I_ don't have any doubts about Abby's ability to love any child. 

"Well, it's just that … sometimes I worry that I won't even love the new baby as much as I love Robby. And then other times I worry that I'll love the new baby _more_ than I love Robby."

"Abby, I think everyone worries about that when they're expecting a second child. It's only natural. You love the first one so much that it's hard to imagine that you can ever love someone else quite the same way. But I know how much you … how much _we_ love our baby girl already. We're just gonna love her that much more. Every bit as much as we love Robby. Remember how tiny and helpless he was when he was a newborn? And how we immediately fell in love with him because he was so adorable and so sweet? It'll be the same way when she's born. We'll love her because she's sweet and adorable. And because she needs us. And because she's ours. And Robby … Abby the way you love him, you'd couldn't possibly love his little sister more. We're just gonna love them both … a lot."

"Yeah, I know. I worry sometimes, but deep down I know that there's enough love to go around. For these two … for any other children we might have. But what if we did … get some other kids. Foster kids or if we were going to an adopt an older child? Do you think it's harder to fall in love with an ornery six-year-old or a rebellious ten-year-old --a child that you don't even know-- than it is to fall in love with a baby or your own child?"

"Abby, it seems like just about every day, I watch you fall in love with some kid that comes into the ER and needs your help. I don't think you'd have any trouble whatsoever falling in love with a child that was here in our home. And every kid, in spite of whatever irritating qualities they might have, has some redeeming characteristics. And knowing that we'd be making such a huge difference in that child's life … well, I would think it would have to be incredibly rewarding. Just like raising Robby is."

"So it's really something you might want to do?" She asks me.

"Yeah, you know, it's something I've thought of occasionally myself, but I guess I figured we wouldn't be ready yet so I didn't say anything. But I'm glad _you_ said something. Now we know we're both on the same page … and we can start looking into it, even if it's gonna be a few years before we act on it."

"Gee, we could start a hell of a Christmas tradition. Some people get a new ornament for their tree every year … we'll get a new kid."

"And another stocking for the mantle." 

"That's something else we have to do tomorrow -- hang up our stockings," Abby says. 

"You expecting Santa to fill yours up this year?" I ask her, grabbing her hand and lacing my fingers between hers.

"I don't know." 

"Why? You've been a very good girl this year." 

"Yeah, but you know … Santa is always watching," she says, pulling her hand away from mine. 

"Yeah?" 

"Well," she says in a whisper, putting her hand on my cheek and drawing my face closer to hers, "I was thinking about being very _naughty_ girl tonight." She waggles her eyebrows at me with a little half smile on her face. 

"Uh … well … I think Santa might make an exception. You know, just this once."

"Once?" 

"Well, you know. This one night." 

"That's better," she says, leaning over to kiss me. The kiss is interrupted by Robby stirring in Abby's arms. "I guess we better get this little guy to bed. His _own_ bed."

"That's a good idea. We want him to get a good night's sleep before all the excitement these next couple of days," I say, reaching down to carefully lift the baby from Abby's embrace. I cradle him in one arm, holding out my other hand to help Abby up. 

"The lights?" She asks as we start out of the room. 

"Nah, leave them. It's officially Christmas Eve now … so let's just keep them on." 

She nods and takes my hand. We head upstairs together to put our sleeping little angel to bed. And once he is safely tucked in for the night, it'll be time for Abby and I to start what is bound to be one of my all-time favorite Christmas Eve traditions. Yes, a merry Christmas, indeed. 


End file.
